


you can't go home again

by plingo_kat



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Abrupt Ending, Alternate Universe - This World Inverted (Shadowhunters TV), EPISODE 10 MADE ZERO SENSE IF YOU THOUGHT ABOUT HOW DIMENSIONAL TRAVEL WOULD WORK, Gen, M/M, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7375153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plingo_kat/pseuds/plingo_kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after Valentine acquires the Mortal Cup, Alec stands with the last members of the New York Institute in the Seelie glade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can't go home again

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I started writing this after I watched episode 10 because none of the dimensional travel makes any sense when you think about it. But then I realized that there really was no way this could be a sustainable story plotwise, so I decided to just post it as-is, a fragment of a larger idea that will never be completed.
> 
> So be warned! Everything makes sense, I don't stop in the middle of a sentence or anything, but it's definitely not a _fulfilling_ ending.

 

o.

Two years after Valentine acquires the Mortal Cup, Alec stands with the last members of the New York Institute in the Seelie glade.

“Are you sure this will work?”

“No.” Clary shrugs with one scarred shoulder. She’s scarred all over now, like all Shadowhunters – all true Shadowhunters – not the soft Mundane girl chasing after her mother when they met. “But it’s our best bet. He won’t have access once we’re through.”

Valentine. Just the thought of that monster makes Alec grind his teeth. Anger won’t help them though, not now, so he pushes it aside.

“Fine. I have the spell,” and his voice cracks, just the smallest amount. He _hates_ himself for it, suddenly, savagely, hates everything. “I have the spell ready.”

“Let’s hope it works.” Izzy prowls around them, eyes constantly scanning the trees. “I would hate to die hungry, wet, cold, miserable, and tired.”

“Oh wait,” Simon chimes in with her, matching word for word. “That’s what we’ve been for the last six months.”

“Let’s go,” Clary says, ignoring them. She flips out a card and extracts a sliver of purple stone from it, placing it at the base of a wooden arch. “Alec.”

Alec’s fingers clench. For a wild moment the thinks of calling the whole thing off: what are they doing, running when Valentine is still alive? Only by this point there’s nothing left to save, even if they could kill him.

 _You just don’t want to lose the last bit of Magnus,_ a part of himself whispers. He pretends he didn’t think it.

“One spell in a ring, coming up,” he says, and slides the wide metal band off his finger. He places it next to the portal stone and steps back.

 _“Activate,_ ” he says in the demonic language, the one word Magnus ever taught him.

The portal opens.

 

 

i.

Magnus snorts awake as the Chairman digs little paws hard into his lap. “Ow,” he hisses quietly. One of the downsides of having a cat that likes to cuddle; when they decide to jump off you, the soft and squishy bits are inevitably what get stepped on. “What was that for?”

He shifts on the couch. Falling asleep with the television on always gives him a crick in the neck, and he massages uselessly at one shoulder as he rolls his head around. A quickly glance around shows that it’s dark, the only light bathing his coffee table and battered couch flickering blue and orange. Huh. Some movie starring Matt Damon.

A rapid skittering approaches. Chairman Meow races past into the bedroom and yowls unhappily; Church growls. Magnus’ heart jumps a little with adrenaline and the jolt is enough to get him on his feet.

“Hey, what’s going on,” he calls out, voice pitched high and soothing. “What’s got you so riled up, Chairman Meow? Huh? Come on, you’re okay.”

“Oh my god,” somebody says. “I didn’t believe you.”

Magnus whirls, fingers spread and glowing blue. Four people dive out of the way.

“Wait!” One of them calls, and steps forward. Magnus hesitates.

“…Shadowhunter?” He doesn’t remember her name, but he would recognize that _hair_ anywhere.

“It’s me, Clary,” she says. Her hands are up. One of them is holding a glowing sword. “Remember? Two years ago I helped you get your magic back and you opened a portal for me?”

“Yes,” Magnus says slowly, drawing the word out. “I wouldn’t forget. Who are your friends?”

“Can we all put our weapons down first?” She lowers her arms a little. Magnus flicks a glance at the rest of the intruders, but they are also all straightening out of fighting stances, lowering swords and a whip and an unnocked bow. He lets his magic dissipate in turn.

“All right. Explain.”

Clary the Shadowhunter glances at her fellows. “It’s a long story. The short version is that we’re all from the other dimension, but we got here a different way. Still have our own bodies and all our stuff. Runes, see?” She taps her neck where there is indeed a rune drawn on the side, a darkly angled thing that runs underneath her shirt and flirts with the edge of her jaw.

“These are my friends. Isabelle,” the dark-haired woman with a whip nods, “Simon,” a youngish looking man, runeless, blinks at him, “and Alec.” Alec is the one with the bow. He stares at Magnus with what can only be described as _hunger_ , but his brow is furrowed and his fists are clenched.

“Hi,” Magnus says, unnerved. He clears his throat. “Magnus Bane. Do you need my assistance with another portal?”

The Shadowhunter archer – Alec – breathes out harshly and looks away. One of his hands reaches for the other as if to fiddle with a ring, but his fingers are bare.

“No,” he says. He doesn’t say anything else.

“We’re hoping for a favor,” Clary cuts in. She shoots a concerned look at Alec, then Isabelle. “Can we talk?”

“Right,” Magnus says. “Let me just…” He considers turning the television off and the lights on with magic, but that probably isn’t a good idea with jumpy armed Shadowhunters in his apartment. Instead he edges over to the wall switch and blinks a couple of times when the fluorescents come on.

“Make yourselves at home.” He doesn’t have anything he’s unwilling to lose outside of his bedroom, does he? No, he cleaned yesterday. “Clary?”

She follows him into the kitchen. When he glances back over his shoulder, his skin itching at turning his back to a threat, Isabelle has a hand on Alec’s arm as he dips his head to listen to her.

“So?” He takes her in fully now that he has a chance. This isn’t the young woman who came into his shop for a reading two years ago, a young woman whose body knew little hardship. Now she walks like a soldier. No, like a guerrilla fighter, he amends, thinking about the short time he spent in Vietnam some seventy years ago. Always on the lookout, always ready to run or attack. Runes and scars litter her skin.

He’s not sure he likes this new version of Clary the Shadowhunter.

“We need a place to rest for the night.” Clary rests her elbows on the counter and accepts the glass of water he offers with a nod. “If you could recommend somewhere, we’d appreciate it. And if you could give us a briefing – a rundown of Downworld politics in New York, maybe internationally – that would be helpful.”

“It sounds like you’re planning to stay.”

“We are, at least for a little while.” Clary sips at the water. “We needed… a safe place.”

Magnus’ eyes narrow. “I closed the portal after you left. If you could come back through, could demons?”

Clary shakes her head. “I still had this.” She pulls out the same portal fragment that kickstarted his powers from her shirt, hanging innocuously on a silver chain. “Without something from this dimension and some really intensive knowledge about portals, nobody should be able to follow us.”

Magnus thinks about it. “All right,” he sighs. “I’ll put you and your Shadowhunter friends up for the night. We can discuss more about an information exchange tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Magnus.” Clary’s smile lights up her face. He finds himself smiling back, helplessly.

“I only have one guest bedroom.” He and Clary walk side by side back out into the living room. “But one of you can take the couch, and I have plenty of extra blankets to soften the floor.”

Alec and Isabelle are together on the couch, weapons laid within easy reach on the coffee table. Simon is browsing Magnus’ bookshelf. They all look up as he and Clary walk through the door.

“Wards?” Alec has toned down his stare but his voice is still brusque.

“Around my bedroom,” Magnus shrugs. “Haven’t needed them in a long time. I only do it now to keep in practice, really.”

Alec glares, then looks away. The other Shadowhunters share significant glances.

“If it’ll make you feel better, I can cast a couple around the apartment,” Magnus sighs.

“Thank you,” Isabelle speaks up for the first time. “We appreciate it.”

“Especially because otherwise they’d burn runes into the walls,” Simon adds.

“Well,” Magnus says. “Please don’t do that. If I may?” He lets a trace of magic escape to wind around his fingers and raises a hand.

“Go ahead,” Clary grins. “I hope you’ve improved from the last time I saw you cast.”

“Excuse me,” Magnus sniffs.

“I’m going to check the perimeter.” Alec stands abruptly, grabbing his bow and slinging his quiver over his shoulder.

“I’ll go with you,” Isabelle adds hastily, and trails him out of the room. _Sorry_ , she mouths at Magnus.

“That was strange,” Magnus observes.

“Alec has a lot on his mind,” Clary says, diplomatic. Simon snorts from his position by the bookshelf. “It’s nothing to do with you. Um, do you need anything for the wards?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Magnus resolves to tackle interpersonal Shadowhunter issues later; he’s much too tired right now. “This won’t take long.”

Wards, then bed. He’ll deal with everything else in the morning.

 

 

Alec sleeps badly. Cushioned with blankets, the floor is softer than plenty of places he’s rested in the past couple months, but the unfamiliar-familiar confines of this alternate-Magnus’ lair unnerves him. He wakes at every noise, every movement, and sometimes for no reason at all that he can tell. By the time dawn breaks he’s already in the kitchen making coffee and tea.

“Mm.” Alec jerks at the noise. Magnus blinks at him from the doorway clad in a loosely fitted t-shirt and what look like fleece pajama pants, hair flat except for an unruly tuft peeking out one side. “Morning.”

Alec looks away. What is he going to say to this stranger wearing Magnus’ face? His eyes catch on the mug of tea his hands still automatically move to make, especially in conjunction with operating Magnus’ coffee machine, and his breath catches. He didn’t even think about it, didn’t have to look around for mugs or the tin where Magnus keeps his loose-leaf or the tea strainer, because this is Magnus but _not Alec’s Magnus_ —

He nudges the steaming mug forward. A familiar square-palmed hand lifts it to Magnus’ nose, which inhales deeply.

“My favorite,” Magnus says, surprised, and Alec can’t take it anymore. He mumbles something about checking up on the others and leaves as fast as he can without being suspicious. Despite not looking back, he knows Magnus watches him walk away.

 

 

“Strange,” Magnus says under his breath. In the watery grey light of a cloudy New York sunrise, Alec looks ethereal, glamoured, almost unreal. Only the deep bags under his eyes and his expression – taut restraint, although against what Magnus isn’t certain – brings him down to an earthly level.

Magnus wonders if you can see angel blood.

“Not your problem, warlock,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Getting mixed up in Shadowhunter business is a bad idea.”

He still faintly remembers when demons and Shadowhunters existed; Asmodeus was one of the last princes of Hell to fall, and he sired Magnus at the tail end of the purge. By the time Magnus hit his first century demons were all but extinct, as were their half-angel nemeses, and he decided to stay well out of it. Mutually assured destruction went against his principles.

Except now here he is, with four Shadowhunters under his roof.

“Coffee?” The runeless one – Simon, was it? – stumbles into the kitchen. Magnus gestures wordlessly at the pot and cocks his head, considering. Didn’t all Shadowhunters draw runes on themselves? Was Simon concealing them somehow?

“Oh,” Simon says. He hovers over the pot. “I, uh, can’t actually drink it, I just like the smell.”

Magnus blinks at him.

“Vampire, you know?” Simon grins at him, fangs out. “See?”

Huh. So Magnus is hosting three Shadowhunters and a vampire under his roof. Not much of an improvement. And—

“Why are you not burning?” The entire kitchen gets light in the mornings; it’s only just past dawn, but even with the faint sun a normal vampire would be visibly smoking.

“Long story,” Simon says. “But basically I don’t have to worry about sunlight. Still have all the other vampire weaknesses, though.”

“When the others wake up, I’m going to ask about that,” Magnus warns. If this is something recreatable, he knows several people who would pay obscene amounts for the information.

“Yeah,” Simon says, drawing the word out. “You do that.”

“Simon.” Clary gives the vampire a quick whap on the shoulder as she walks past. “Don’t antagonize Magnus.”

“Ow!” Simon flinches exaggeratedly, hands raise to ward off further attack. “I wasn’t antagonizing him, I was telling him I’m a vampire.”

“Oh,” Clary looks between them. _“Oh,_ the sunlight thing.”

“I’m very curious,” Magnus assures her. He remembers the cup in his hand and takes a drink of the tea. Perfect, just like it smelled. “I might even upgrade to _extremely_ curious.”

Clary smiles at him. “Information exchange, remember? We’ll work it out after breakfast.”

That startles a laugh out of him. “Touché,” he says, brushing fingers against his heart. “Breakfast, then. Any requests?”

“Anything we can order in. Ah, and donuts.”

“And for you?” Magnus nods at Simon. “I don’t have any blood on hand, but I could probably find some.”

“Nah, I’m good. Drank yesterday.”

So, not a fledgling. Magnus didn’t really think he was, not with how confident Simon seemed, but it any information was better than none. Unfortunately, knowing that Simon could go a day without feeding told Magnus nothing except that the vampire’s age was anywhere from ‘turned within the year’ to ‘older than god.’

“Good,” Magnus says. He drains his tea and deposits the mug in the sink. “I’ll call for delivery. Sit tight, darlings.”

After ordering breakfast for four, he feeds Chairman Meow and Church, takes a shower, and does his hair. When he emerges again all of his guests are up and food is on the table.

“We paid the delivery man.” Isabelle sashays past, twirling a fork between her fingers. “It was the least we could do.”

“Ah,” Magnus says. It’s been a long time since he’s had people over for breakfast. He considers what a good host would say. “Thank you.”

He takes the plate Alec hands him automatically, and when he looks down it’s exactly what he would have chosen himself. Oh dear, he thinks. Not getting involved is going to be harder than he thought.

“Well then,” he looks up and smiles. “Bon appétit!”

 

 

ii.

Alec dreads the end of breakfast. He dreads the retelling of what happened after Valentine obtained the Cup, dreads speaking the words; dreads being _unable_ to speak the words, and have them come from Clary or Isabelle instead. They shouldn’t have to do that. He should be strong enough.

But it’s Magnus.

Magnus, dressed in casual slacks and a cardigan, focused intently on his food. Alec can’t stop staring. He’ll catch himself and look away, but in the next moment his eyes are caught again by Magnus lifting a bite of food to his mouth, Magnus’ hands reaching for his tea mug, Magnus humming as he licks a drop of syrup from his fork.

He can’t. He can’t talk about the last two years. Not to Magnus, not when it was Alec’s fault—

“So,” Magnus says, laying his fork down with a _clink_. “I was promised an explanation.”

Alec’s breath catches.

“No, you were promised a discussion about the terms of an information exchange.” Clary comes to his rescue, tone teasing. As Magnus makes a face Izzy puts a hand on Alec’s knee in unseen comfort. He looks at her; she smiles at him, eyes sad, then turns back to the last scraps of her breakfast.

“Yes,” Magnus says. Alec refocuses his attention, forcing his mind to clear. This is a mission. This isn’t his Magnus. This is no time for Alec to have a breakdown. “But a man can dream, can’t he?”

“A thorough briefing of the New York Downworld political landscape and an overview of Shadowhunter and demonic history,” Alec cuts in. “In exchange for how and why we’re here.”

“What? No no no,” Magnus laughs. Then he turns serious and leans forward, eyes on Alec’s face. “Your offer, with the addition of a reciprocal historical overview and information as to how a vampire can walk in daylight.”

“Nothing about Simon. Instead we’ll give you information on any angelic rune that you can name and we know about.”

“Tempting.” Magnus runs his thumb over his bottom lip, and Alec focuses deliberately on his eyes. They’re perfectly glamoured, a familiar rich brown. Looking was a bad idea. “But a Daylighter vampire is also tempting. Are you sure I can’t convince you…?”

Alec bites his cheek hard enough to bleed. “I’m sure,” he grinds out.

“Well then,” Magnus’ lips quirk, the expression he makes when he wants to hide that he’s pleased. Alec sways toward him, just a little, the smallest bit, but Magnus’ gaze focuses and he _sees_ —

“Deal,” Alec says, and stands. “Isabelle, Clary, fill him in. I’m going to the bathroom.”

He locks the door when he gets there and leans on the counter, staring down at the sink. His face feels hot. He swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut, and feels his shoulders creep up toward his ears.

“Fuck.” The curse comes out rougher than normal, and Alec shakes his head in denial. He’s not going to start crying here in the bathroom like a child. He’s not.

He takes a deep breath in and holds it for a count of seven. Exhales, one two three four five six seven eight.

It takes twenty cycles of the breathing exercise before he feels stable, and when he finally meets his reflection’s gaze in the mirror his eyes are slightly red-rimmed. It can probably be explained away with exhaustion if anybody asks, he decides, and splashes cold water on his face. Then he flushes the toilet for added verisimilitude.

“You don’t need to tell me more,” Magnus says as he re-enters the room. The look he gives Alec isn’t excessively pitying, so the others must not have mentioned that the warlock who helped them cross over was Magnus’ alternate self. Or maybe they did, and just didn’t mention his relationship with Alec. That’s fine. That’s good, even, he thinks, and attributes the hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach to relief.

**Author's Note:**

> tbh I was thinking that something would go wrong in the Invert-verse and then the Shadowhunter cohort would have to work with Magnus to solve it, and then Magnus would slowly learn about his alt-self's relationship with Alec while Alec would (kind of unhealthily, probably) fall in love with Invert!Magnus. Was he truly feeling things for this Magnus, or was it just a transference of feeling? Did it matter? Only to the readers who are invested in the idea of a healthy relationship!
> 
> But I couldn't think of a compelling antagonist in the Invert-verse because, like, Valentine still exists in the the original-verse, which kind of supersedes any other villain I could throw at them, really. So yeah.
> 
> If you want to yell together about malec feelings or about how NOTHING ABOUT EP 10 DIMENSIONAL TRAVEL MAKES SENSE hit me up: plingokat @ twitter


End file.
